


Forbidden Fruit

by Bioluminescent



Series: Eden [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Alternate Universe - His Dark Materials, Gen, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-16 22:25:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4642338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bioluminescent/pseuds/Bioluminescent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint has a snake daemon and can't stop the two of them causing trouble, but really, he'd leave the Shield agents alone if they would just stop getting captured already. Seriously, being a mercenary does not mean cleaning up after a government agency's mess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forbidden Fruit

**Author's Note:**

> I have no beta, although the wonderful WriteThroughTheNight read through this for me once again.

Almost every culture has a fear of snakes. They have stories of ravenous snake people or evil omens brought to them through the sight of their gods. All over the world, snakes are feared and rarely respected.

But in the world of humans, witches, and panserjborne, snake daemons go beyond feared. Once a daemon settles, a sigh of relief can be heard by parents and teachers when there is no hint of sleek scales and a flicking tongue. Known for his ruthless ways, Hitler drew a path for all other snake daemons to come, shadowing them in mystery and suspicion. While he was only one of many dictators in history that had snake daemons, he was the one most recently remembered for his deeds. So whenever people see a snake daemon, whether it is a small garden snake or a particularly large puff adder, they give them a wide berth or run them out of the area completely. 

Children who have these daemons are scorned, abused, and a large number are murdered – often by their own parents. These children are ridiculed in school and have no friends other than the shadows. If they survive to adulthood, they drop off the grid, wandering from small town to small town or making a name for themselves in questionable businesses. It is a fact that if they are good enough, mercenaries are paid well. With a snake daemon, the pay is even better.

~^~^~  
Clint stares down the length of his rifle at his target far below him as he crosses the warehouse floor. The booming knocks on the door shake Clint's perch and he mutters a soft swear under his breath, feeling Sig loop her body around the metal beam he's crouched on. She hisses quietly as the man below them pulls the door open with a loud screeching noise, his jackal daemon skipping around him.

A group of bound and blindfolded people stumble in, the two women and three men poked and prodded to the middle of the warehouse by gun wielding goons. Clint sighs when one of them decides to attempt an escape only to get the butt of a gun to the head. He watches as the unlucky prisoner is dragged to his feet and shoved back to walking, his ferret stumbling along behind him drunkenly. At a slight twitch, Sig makes her way down to the floor of the warehouse to scout around a bit more and Clint resettles his rifle.

The prisoners are finally bound to their captors satisfaction, but to Clint's curiosity they leave all the daemons alone. His silent question is answered as a daemon hisses at the jackal who had come close and one of the gunmen steps forward and casually fists his hand in the cat's ruff. A chill shoots down Clint's spine as he sees one of the prisoners sag to the floor shaking violently. Once the cat is let go the man curls around his daemon, flinching when his boot is kicked by the same gunman.

Clint glances at the rest of the prisoners, suppressing a curse when he sees how calm they are, because that means people used to danger and kidnappings. The warehouse shakes again with the pounding of somebody's fist and Clint swings his rifle to get a good sight line.

Right on time the man he has been waiting for walks in the warehouse, his head always staying in the center of Clint's crosshairs.

Heavy footfalls fill the now silent room, the jaguar daemon growling in a low grumble next to Clint's target as they approach the prisoners. Three flinch at the growl, but the other two remain impassive, despite the fact that their faces have been covered by bags. Clint focuses his attention on those two as his target does the same. Viktor Lazarev motions with one hand and the bags are ripped off by two goons, hair most likely going along with them. A faint scrape against the metal behind him alerts Clint of Sig's return as she slides up his back to position her head near his ear. They watch as the uncovered man and woman blink a few times before looking at their captor expressionlessly. The serval and clouded leopard daemons next to them do nothing but curl their lips at the jaguar.

The dark haired woman is questioned first, and she just stares at the man before her as Viktor gets exceedingly angry. Clint's finger twitches against the trigger and Viktor turns on the man beside her, his blue eyes meeting Viktor's as the questions asked to the woman are repeated to him. Viktor is much harsher with the man than he was with the woman and Clint grows stiff and bored, Sig twitching her tail impatiently against his leg.

“How many?” Clint whispers.

Sig merely shifts her head to the side silently, and Clint knows that all the men he needs to kill are in this building.

He returns to watching the proceedings below him.

The trickle of voices reach him even as high as he is, straining to hear the entire conversation.

_“So why are you here then?”_ Viktor stalks around the man in the middle of the room, where he had been dragged to kneel. _“Because your information proved to be faulty.”_

The man answers calmly, his face even.  _“I don't know what you're talking about.”_

Clint suppresses his surprise into a blink; Sig tightening her coils around his chest as the man's face is whipped to the side with the force of the blow. The man stares off to the side before turning his gaze back to Viktor, his expression now marred by his red cheek.

Viktor continues as if nothing happened.  _“I just find it amusing that Shield thinks they can just waltz into any country on the planet hoping to get their agents home in one piece after every mission. I find it amusing that Shield isn't aware of a carefully placed virus in their very midst, leaking information of your movements to the highest bidders.”_  Sig's coils tighten even more at the mention of Shield and Clint breathes out slowly, trying to calm his racing heart. So these people are Shield agents, the very organization Clint has been avoiding since he joined the business.  _“Tell me, before I get angry and start killing your coworkers, starting with the one curled on the floor, why are you here and what does Shield want?”_

Clint sees the man below glance to the side of the warehouse before answering again.  _“I don't know what you're talking about.”_

Clint closes his eyes and lets Sig see for them, flicking her tongue out to the red and yellow picture of three people standing ready in the shadows. Shield obviously has backup, but they aren't equipped to take out Viktor and all his goons at once. Sig's tongue flicks again against his cheek and Clint sighs, knowing what she's going to say.

“You know we have to help them now.”

Clint answers on a breath as the man with blue eyes and a clouded leopard daemon gets his face hit again, the sound of bone grinding echoing in the room.

 

~^~^~

 

Of course, as soon as they corner their target, the shit hits the literal fan.

Phil shuffles along obediently, his hands bound behind him as a gun pokes him along at the small of his back. Their footsteps echo in the large room, sounding more like a warehouse than what the info had said in their file. Once he, and presumably the others, have been bound to the shoddy wall behind them, Phil allows himself a quick breath before ruthlessly burying his fear and panic in the back of his mind.

He has nothing to fear, he knows this to be a fact, he trusts who he is with, but there is always something nerve wracking about botched missions. Especially when he's the team leader.

But he _is_  team leader, so Phil doesn't react to Simmons gasping at the end of the line, his whimpers clear in the silent room. A loud boom breaks through his fellow agent's moans, the door screeching open again before replaced by the sound of heavy footsteps, the low growl of a large cat filling the empty space. The intimidation tactic barely scratches the surface of Phil's calm, even when his head bag is ripped away – along with a few hairs on his head.

Phil glances around quickly, spotting Bell's spotted fur near his feet, before he settles his gaze on the man in front of him. Maria has her head free too and she stares blankly at Viktor as he steps forward, running his beady eyes along her body, his jaguar curling its lips to show white fangs. Pleasure runs through Phil as he feels Bell's defiance as she curls her lip in disdain at the big cat, her tail still where it rests against Phil's ankle.

Viktor's rough voice fills the room and Maria just stares at him, feigning not understanding the Russian man. Soon, he too curls his lip at her as he turns his cold eyes on Phil. A shadow falls over him as his shoulders block the light, his light hair falling forward against his chin as Viktor looms over Phil. He listens to Viktor, not surprised when he's dragged to the center of the room and forced on his knees, guns hovering at the back of his skull.

Viktor speaks again, and Phil forces his mind to the situation at hand, knowing what he has to do.

The first sharp hit to his cheek helps bring his mind to focus and Phil glares up at Viktor as he keeps speaking. 

_“Tell me, before I get angry and start killing your coworkers, starting with the one curled on the floor, why are you here and what does Shield want?”_

A shiver of fear goes through Phil and he glances to where he knows Sitwell and his team are, because he'll be damned if he did not hear that deliberate boot scuff.

The next blow takes him by surprise and Bell hisses next to him, pressing her side up against his hip as he moves his jaw slowly from side to side, making sure nothing is broken. Bell flattens herself to the floor as Viktor crouches to his level, grabbing his chin roughly and wrenching it around so their eyes meet. Phil feels the jaguar circle around the back of him, the gunmen retreating at their boss' daemon's approach.

_“Tell me you fool.”_  Viktor grabs his head and Phil grits his teeth at how it jars his still healing concussion. The blood drains from Phil's face when Viktor sighs sadly, his eyes hardening as he smiles like a predator. _“Well, it looks like you are going to be difficult then. Let us see how long it takes to make you scream, Agent Coulson.”_

Phil's brain shouts at him to not say anything stupid, but fear makes people do stupid things. 

_“You're so confident that I'm going to be the one screaming. It's hysterical.”_

Viktor's eyes narrow in rage, but he doesn't get the chance do anything more before his eyes go blank, the harsh bang of a rifle filling the air and his forehead exploding in a shower of blood.

Phil is moving before Viktor's body hits the floor.

He dimly hears the sound of Sitwell and his team firing as he whirls around to the man approaching his left, swinging his leg out to clip him on the temple, crouching again as he falls unconscious to the ground.

The sounds of fighting cease and Phil straightens, Bell walking forward and glaring at the body of Viktor as Phil turns to Sitwell. Sitwell is cutting Maria's bonds, Gigi hopping around her serval Finian as she rubs her wrists. Phil walks over to the two and Sitwell cuts his ropes.

“So what made you decide to kill him? You know we needed him for questioning.”

Sitwell gives Phil a confused look, his daemon shuffling her feathers as she flutters up to rest on his shoulder. “We didn't fire on him Phil.”

Maria looks sharply at Jasper. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that Shield did not fire on Viktor and kill him. Somebody else took that shot.”

Phil stares at Jasper for one moment before turning to his team. “Alright, let's pack up and get out of here.”

 

~^~^~

 

Phil enters Fury's office with a file tucked under his arm, Bell walking quietly beside him. Nipun regards them both from the back of Nick's chair, clacking his beak as they approach Fury's large desk.

“Would you like to tell me just what the fuck happened there, Phil?”

Phil meets Nick's gaze evenly as he answers. “A large fuck up, that's what.”

Nick's expression softens marginally and he motions Phil to sit down in the chair in front of his desk. His brow tightens when Phil just about collapses into it.

“What happened, Cheese.”

Phil snorts, Bell doing the same from where she sits on his lap. “Why are you asking me? You already know about the mystery shooter.”

Nick shakes his head. “Yeah, but I wanted to hear it from you. Goddamn why does this shit happen?” Used to his friend's antics, Phil shakes his head as they both hear a knock at the door. “Come in!”

Maria pushes the door open, a tablet in her hand and Finian trailing behind her.

“You had better have brought me good fucking news, Maria.”

Maria glares at Fury before swiping up the screen on Fury's desk and transferring a video onto the console. She hits play as Phil leans forward to watch.

The video is grainy, obviously from a poor quality security camera, but recognizable as the outside wall of the warehouse they were held in. The corner at the back of the building is badly lit, but the lighting changes as a figure quickly makes its way down the side of the building, arms moving smoothly as he descends, for it is definitely a man with that build, a rifle swinging to his side on a strap. They all watch as the man drops to a crouch once his booted feet hit the ground, making his way quickly off into the wilderness behind the warehouse, his face appearing briefly before he disappears completely into the shadows.

Nick slams his hand on the desk in front of him. “What does this fucking mean to me if I don't have this motherfucker's name?”

Maria glares at him and Bell snickers from her spot. Finian hisses at her as Fury looks on impatiently.

“Analyzing ran a face match and they said with ninety-five percent certainty that this man here is the one and only Hawkeye.”

Silence fills the room.

Fury breaks it by tilting his head back and laughing, Nipun clacking his beak in amusement, while Phil studies the face on the screen.

Harsh lines attract Phil's eyes to Hawkeye's drawn cheekbones and the dark stitches above one eyebrow, dark hair blending with the shadowy backdrop. Bell nudges Phil, pointing with one paw at the strange way Hawkeye holds himself in the paused video, his shoulders hunched and his weight leaning more to his left side, his right leg held awkwardly even as he had moved swiftly across the ground.

“I'll be damned if Hawkeye, the mercenary who never misses, helped Shield make a kill and potentially saved the lives of my agents.”

“Well sir, I would say that you already were damned, but it's true that Hawkeye did helps us when we sorely needed it.”

Nipun shifts his gaze from Maria to Phil, wings rustling slightly as Nick threads his fingers together and studies his face. Phil looks back patiently, his face drawn and tired, but earnest. Bell flicks her tail as Maria rests her hand on the back of Phil's chair, resting the majority of her weight on the chair.

Nick blows a harsh breath through his nose before he sits back.

“Then the question we should be asking now is why the fuck did he do it?”

 

~^~^~

 

Director Fury is yelling, and for once it's not Phil's fault.

Bell snickers as they make their way closer to the yelling, Fury's secretary grimacing at him as he shrugs his shoulders. Her mockingbird ruffles his feathers as the yelling gains momentum and volume.

“He should be done in a few minutes.”

Phil nods. “I know.” To anyone watching, excluding the secretary, they look on in shock as Phil starts down the hallway to the much dreaded office with the door that seems to be shaking.

Bell curls her tail around Phil's ankle as they walk, and she mutters under her breath, “It's a good thing his walls are soundproof.” Phil chuckles softly, before raising a fist and knocking on the door.

The shouting stops immediately and Phil takes that as his cue, opening the door to a pale faced, quivering junior agent cowering under Director Fury's glare. Nipun has settled himself on the back of Fury's chair to his right, his feathers puffed out as he shifts his weight, drawing the gaze of the junior agent back to Fury. Phil bites back a smirk at the sight of the agent's German Shepherd daemon cowering beside his chair, a hand fisted in her scruff.

Fury waves one hand in the air wildly. “Now that you have been graced with an interruption, get out of my face and don't even think of being in the same fucking room with me for at least a month.”

The junior agent and his daemon don't need to be told twice and vacate the chair quicker than Phil thought that particular agent could move. He turns his gaze to Fury.

“Do you have to bully my junior agents?”

Fury snorts. “Of course I do, if they can't survive me then they definitely couldn't fucking survive a mission. He'll be fine.” A sly looks crosses his face. “Probably.”

Bell twitches her tail against Phil's ankle, curling her lip up at Nipun, not bothering to make the normal greeting between daemons. Ignoring his daemon, Phil stands beside the empty seat.

“So what did he do to deserve such a punishment?”

Nipun clacks his beak in what seems to be an angry fashion to Phil, Nick biting back a sigh as he settles back into his chair, one hand raising to motion at Nipun behind him. His fingers brush against the vulture's breast feathers. Phil pretends not to notice.

“That motherfucker called Nipun Nip while I was in the same room.”

The only reaction that gets from Bell is a pause before she leaps up onto the chair, and from there to Phil's shoulders. He lets her shove his head around as she drapes herself over his shoulders precariously and he just stares at Nick.

“If somebody's that stupid, they deserve to be yelled at.”

Nick nods absentmindedly, putting his feet up on a pile of paperwork on his desk, Nipun spreading his wings to keep balanced. Bell whispers something to Phil and he nods. Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Nick looks at Phil.

The bruises are blossoming to their full colors after the last botched mission, the dark spots harsh against his skin, washing out his already pale face. 

Nick snaps his fingers. “You're here for a reason Cheese, spill.”

“We've gotten more information about Hawkeye at your request-”

Nipun snaps his wings out once before settling, Nick throwing his head back in relief. “Thank god, I thought that we wouldn't get anything on the bastard.”

Bell hisses at the interruption. “If you had let me continue you would know that there's very little information, and only a few points are even useful.”

Nick looks at Phil in disbelief, his daemon not moving from his perch. “You're joking. Please, for the love of god, tell me you're joking.” 

Phil raises one eyebrow.

“Jesus fucking Christ, we are the nightmare of other agencies, we are the literal best of the best, and we can't even get information on one measly mercenary? What is this world coming to?”

Phil lets Nick rant, easily ignoring the stream of inappropriate words coming out in a very creative blend, instead focusing on the paperwork he can get done tonight before heading home, and which ones he absolutely can't leave for tomorrow. A tail flicking against his chin brings Phil back to the room, noticing the silence as Nick stares at him.

“Are you done?”

Nick snorts. “Yes, now tell me what we got.”

“Hawkeye has a King Cobra daemon that seems to be separated from him as she goes out and scouts for him during missions. He has been active for the past eight years as one of the most sought after mercenaries in the business, and will take any jobs from stealing information to quick and easy long distance kills. His requests have built up over the past five years and he doesn't seem likely to answer even half of them.”

Nick shakes his head. “Is that it?”

Bell yawns on Phil's shoulder before she answers.

“He's very picky with the jobs he takes, if he even takes them at all. And from what Intel says, his kills have only been doing good for the overall population.”

Nipun clacks his beak again in annoyance as Nick sits forward, leaning his elbows on his desk. “So this Hawkeye is good, but I'm going to need convincing of how good he is.”

Phil tilts his head at Nick, considering his options and which will make the best impact.

“Hawkeye was responsible for the politician debacle in France.”

Phil bites back a smile as Nipun loses his balance on the back of Nick's chair, falling off it backwards, snapping his wings out before he hits the floor with a thud. Nick stares at Phil disbelievingly for a moment as Nipun snarls quietly on the floor behind him. Bell snickers as Nick reaches up with a hand to rub at his eye, pinching the bridge of his nose. Nipun flutters onto his knee.

“We thought it was a team who did that.”

Phil shakes his head. “No, that was all done by Hawkeye. He never accepts a job that requires a team.”

“Jesus Christ.” Phil hums noncommittally as Nick stares at him over his hand. “I want as much as we can possibly get about this Hawkeye, and I want it as soon as fucking possible. Also, tell Sitwell and Simmons they need to be on the quinjet in two hours for their mission in Europe.”

Phil nods, turning for the door, Bell limp on his shoulders as she yawns again.

“And make sure Simmons gets his ass in gear, Cheese.”

 

~^~^~

 

Clint taps the earpiece in his ear again, muttering under his breath as he sneaks into Shield's comm system. Fancy and sparkly, with no bite to their viruses. Sig watches over his shoulder as he listens to the two agents arguing whose fault it was getting caught, the senior agent the clear victor.

He snorts at their antics, tightening his boots and wincing as Sig runs her tongue gently over his stitches. She hisses at him as he brushes her away, curling around his chest underneath his vest. Unconsciously his hands check that all his weapons are present and accounted for, stilling when a familiar voice sounds in his ear. The man with the blue eyes from their previous mission, Coulson, his mind supplies, is asking the two agents what their situation is and if they need backup. Shaking his head, Clint ignores the rush that goes down his back as he sneaks out the door, rifle slung low across his body.

Clint makes his way easily through the hallways, Sig occasionally prodding his cheek in the right direction as they avoid most of the guards. But when Clint makes his way around one corner, he comes face to face with a very large man with a grizzly bear snarling at his side.

He flashes a quick smile.  _“Hi, you wouldn't happen to know where Mr. Savela is having his intruders kept?”_

The big man stares down at Clint long enough that he begins to get nervous, before the man points with the hand not holding his own rifle down the hall.  _“Down the hall, take a left, then a right, follow the stairs up one floor, and it's fifth door on the left. Say hello to Lehto for me.”_

Clint nods his head, already heading toward the direction the man had pointed.  _“Say hello to Lehto for you, got it.”_

The big man grunts and turns back to the corner, Clint glancing over his shoulder before he takes the corner. As an afterthought, the man falls to the floor, his bear disappearing in a gold shower as the knife penetrates deep into the back of his skull. Knowing that the thump had to have been heard, Clint hurries along the halls, killing anyone he comes across, not bothering to raise a hand in greeting.

Coulson talks to his agents in his ear, the chatter strangely calming as Clint pops around the corner and shoots the guard in the forehead. Another flash of gold and the Shield agents behind the door are talking rapidly to their handler as the body falls against the door.

“What do you mean there are gunshots?”

“I'm telling you, Coulson. Somebody just shot our guard.”

Clint snickers, rustling around the dead guard's body until he finds the keys to the door. After examining the lock, he knows the door can be unlocked from the inside and shoves the key loop through the slot under the door. A knife follows after, the agents relaying the happenings to Coulson as Clint bolts down the hall, making himself scarce.

Sig hisses her equivalent of a laugh as Clint jumps over the rail of the stairs, taking the quick way down, landing on his feet and rolling with the impact. Clint checks his watch, notes the time, then bangs open the fire exit door, the alarms blaring loudly around him as a rush of frigid air smacks him in the face. Glancing around, Clint spots a spare pair of emergency skiis, and stomps his boots into them as he settles his goggles and mask. There are shouts behind him as the building evacuates, but Clint doesn't look back as he takes off into the woods, Sig murmuring affectionately under her breath to him as they disappear from sight.

 

~^~^~

 

An eerie silence floats over one wing in Shield, and it's an eerie silence that should never be heard in reality. It's one of those angry silences that sends shivers down spines and daemons skittering away with their tails between their legs. 

So of course only two people and their daemons are capable of surviving that kind of prolonged silence.

Maria splays herself across one of Nick's chairs, much like Finian would do if she was not in his way. He makes do with curling up on the floor underneath the chair to nap. Phil sits in the other chair neatly, Bell laying across his lap, still, only her tail twitching under Nipun's scrutiny. The two senior agents each scroll through different things on their tablets, ignoring Fury as he glares at them both.

“You know what I would dearly like to know?”

Maria shrugs, “I don't know, what?”

Phil bites back a snort, Bell stretching lazily on her lap before reaching up to play with his navy blue tie. Hissing angrily, Nipun flares his wings on Fury's desk, which does nothing to get attention or concern.

“I would like to know,” Fury leans forward in his chair, staring at the both of them. “How the hell Hawkeye could be at the location of two of our missions and save both of them as they went belly up. The first time, it was strange, but this time, this time it's fucking creepy.”

Phil breaks in, batting Bell's paws away from his tie and never looking away from his tablet, “Well you can't call it a pattern until it happens three times, sir.”

Fury glares at Phil. “You know what, fuck you! Cheese.” Maria snickers, Finian flicking his ears in amusement. Fury turns on them. “Fuck you too by the way.”

Maria squawks. “What did I do to deserve that?”

Fury's reply is broken off with the sound of a knock on his door, the door opening before he can answer. Sitwell peeks his head around the door, warily looking at all three of them. He notices the outstretched finger of Fury and Maria's expression, but he says nothing. His rock pigeon flutters into the room, touching her beak to Finian's nose and glancing up at the drowsy Bell on Phil's lap. The handler follows his daemons example and enters even more slowly, all attention on him at the sound of crinkling bags.

He puts the takeout on the desk, pulling up another chair for him to sit as the tension slowly releases. Fury sits back, a container of pad Thai in his hands as his senior agents fight over the chicken dumplings.

Once everyone is more or less settled, Nick leans forward. “Now, not to ruin the good mood, but have we gotten anything on Hawkeye?” Jasper freezes in his chair, his hands stilling on their way up to his mouth as Maria and Phil just look up at Nick from their food. Nick falls back into his chair. “Goddammit.”

“Don't be such a drama queen, Nick. We'll find more about Hawkeye soon enough, stop obsessing over him and breath.” Finian snickers again as he plays with Gigi's feathers, ignoring the pigeon's pecks. 

Nick glares at Maria before turning his attention to his cooling food. “I guess I have been, but my reasons are legitimate.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Nick.”

 

~^~^~

 

Hot, muggy air fills Clint's lungs as he swings past a slow moving river, the sound of many insects filling the air. Sig rides his shoulders, curling herself loosely around his chest, trying not to overheat him in the damp air of the rainforest.

“Why on earth did they have to come here. Who is there to kill? No one!” Clint snarls under his breath as he trips over a log for what seems to be the hundredth time that day.

“Clint.”

He almost misses Sig's voice over the sudden calls of a peafowl breaking the air.

The next time she hisses his name, Clint answers.

“What.”

“Get in the trees.”

“What?”

“Get in the trees, now.”

Not bothering to question her, Clint aims his bow and fires into a large tree to his left, activating the pulley system just as a large forest elephant charges for him.

Urging the little machine to go faster does nothing as the bull elephant rushes forwards, swinging his tusks at Clint's ribs. Suddenly, Sig draws herself up from around Clint's shoulders, spreading her fans and hissing at the elephant. It slows as they are drawn further from its reach into the branches.

Once Clint has settled himself on a sturdy perch, he pulls out his GPS from a vest pocket, checking the location of the compound. The sun is just starting to lower in the sky as Clint begins to move again, his bow slung across his lap and his arrows stored in his quiver.

Leaping from branch to branch, Clint makes his way across a swiftly flowing river next to a group of monkeys hooting and hollering. The warm air is slightly cooler as he moves through the branches, his focused swinging methodical and patient. Sig tucks her scaly head under Clint's chin as he lets go of one branch, falling towards the forest floor. Clint whoops, his hands outstretched for the springier branch closer to the ground, a few birds flying away at his shout as he grabs the branch. It bends under Clint's weight, Sig clenching closer to Clint in preparation for the branch to break, but it holds. Instead, it brings Clint on a fast arch back up to the higher branches of the trees.

Just after Clint takes a short break leaning against the trunk of a tree high up in the air, Sig peers down to the soggy forest floor below them. Clint follows her example and does the same, spotting the large backs of a band of gorillas as they make their way to another rest stop. Glancing ahead, Clint spots a fruit tree in ripe bloom, so the gorillas are probably making their way to a food source. Sig ignores them as Clint swings his way past their pit stop, keeping a good distance between them. 

After one more check of the GPS, Clint makes his way to his chosen lookout point. The tall tree overlooks the compound he has been looking for for the past few hours. The compound is strangely built, more like a large collection of tree houses than a war fortress. But there it sits, the different sections like large shiny bugs latching onto the sides of trees, sometimes stretching over a cluster of them. Connecting the group of houses are metal bridges, all hanging from the canopy branches by wires, with the bridge bouncing with each step taken. Everyone is wearing light clothes, the loose fabric moving in what little wind there is.

“They're being held in the one off to the side.” Sig points with her tail in the direction of a little selection of the houses separated from the main cluster. Clint nods, watching as one door opens, a man dressed in billowing white robes steps out, wiping his hands on a cloth given to him by a guard. The cloth comes away bright red.

There's no blood on the mans robes as he walks down one long bridge that connects with the main cluster. Sig hisses as the man enters the largest building in the grouping, Clint merely watching as the man bows his head to workers who salute to him.

Clint moves slowly, taking out his binoculars and reapplying a coating of bugspray before checking the location of the sun before taking a closer look of the compound.

As far as Clint can tell, there's no connection to the internet, but, from past experience, they probably have a satellite phone in the largest building. Everyone who passes through the view on his binoculars has a strange glazed look to their eyes, and that could mean anything from lack of food and water or exhaustion, to some things Clint prefers not to consider. Off to the edge of the main cluster is a sort of elevator leading to the forest floor. As they watch, it lowers down, allowing a group of men onto the platform with their dinner strung up on poles. The men hold onto the sides of the platform, three men stabilizing its movements against the tree trunk as it is slowly brought up to the loafing platform. They disembark and make their way to one of the smaller buildings, dropping off their kills before they make their way to the largest building.

By now, the sun has dropped enough that it is hard to see without lights or infrared. Luckily, Clint has Sig to see for them both and the cluster of houses doesn't use bright white lights for their floating compound. Clint checks that most of the men are in what is probably the dining house, collects his specialized arrows, and makes his way down the tree.

He closes his eyes, letting Sig see for both of them and making his way across the forest floor, avoiding all animals that surround the compound. Clint finally gets to the tree that holds up the prisoner compound just as the nocturnal animals are waking up for the night. Compared to the rest of the air, the metal is a cool purple. Clint ignores her, moving on instinct as he nocks a grappler arrow, aims, and lets it loose.

It lands with a satisfying thunk in the bottom of the house, the toothed fingers piercing the bottom of the floor and locking in securely. Clint tugs on the line, letting it hold his entire body weight before clipping in his harness. Sig settles herself on him as he wraps the wire around his leg, reaching up as high as he can before pulling himself off the ground.

Clint curses not being able to use his winch the entire time he pulls himself up the wire, but it would have been too loud, even in the rainforest. The sounds of man made machinery are out of place in a location as secluded as this. Sig pokes him in the cheek and he stops, focusing on the burn in his shoulders and the ever nearing house.

Once he gets close enough to touch it, Clint reaches up and taps out a message in Morse code on the metal bottom, praying that somebody in there knows how to reply.

They do, and they tap back, Clint replying before he reaches to the trunk of the tree, Sig curling down his arm and onto the support wires of the treehouse. With a flick of her tail in farewell, she makes her way to the center cluster. Clint turns back to the work at hand and reaches into his back pocket, pulling out his laser cutter. He thanks god that his last job had him on recon of Stark's weapon cache, allowing him to swipe a few little doodads for stuff like this.

The cutter burns through the metal quickly and Clint shoves up on the metal square, climbing through it into the overwhelming stench of blood, feces, piss, and fear. He refuses to meet anyone's eyes, instead pointing to the floor and the wire leading down to the forest floor. Then he turns to the door, gets a firm grasp of his bow and a handful of arrows, and kicks the door down.

A startled squawk tells Clint that somebody has just been hit in the back by the door, and he freezes, listening. But after a few moments there is a distant thump and crunch on the forest floor below. Gold sparkles in the dark and Clint shoves the door out of his way, making his way toward the largest building. Just as he gets to the end of the bridge leading to the buildings entrance, the screaming starts.

A grim smile makes its way across his face, and Clint knows he looks like Death incarnate, albeit a modern version, but still.

He opens the door slowly, firing into the crowd immediately, reaching behind him and grabbing another handful of arrows as he runs out. In quick succession, Clint kills half the people in the room, swinging with his bow when a man lunges for his side with a knife in his hand. The knife digs deep into the hardwood of the bow and Clint wrenches it away from him, throwing a knife as he spins, crushing the scorpion daemon under the heel of his boot. The man falls to the floor, lifeless as his daemon dusts the bottom of Clint's shoe.

As the last men fall, Clint turns to the white robed man sitting in the center of the room. Clint spots Sig sliding around the edges of the room to behind the man's chair as Clint steps forward, the hyena at his side cackling as he gets closer, her fur rising on her back.

Clint freezes, smiling as he puts his hands forward, dropping his weapons on the floor as the man studies him.

_“I was waiting for you to come.”_

Clint tilts his head like a bird, noticing how the man looks around his body, trying to spot his daemon.  _“What do you mean?”_

The man chuckles, seeming to not notice how Clint is drawing nearer to him.  _“Well, after it was learned how Shield had a guardian angel, I was wondering how long it would take for the angel to get here.”_

Clint chuckles, a low sound that has the man tensing, but really Clint only laughed so Sig could slither closer to the man.  _“And now you're one of few who gets to see their so-called angel. Not many do.”_

_“Yes, but we all know that their little angel should not be called an angel.”_

_“And why is that?”_

_“Because, look at what their angel has done.”_  The man motions at the room, Sig's head cresting over the back of the chair.  _“Their angel has murdered my people out of cold blood. There is nothing angelic about that.”_

Clint chuckles again as Sig prepares to strike.  _“See that's where you're wrong. This?”_  Clint spreads his arms to the room behind him.  _“This is not cold blooded murder. This, this is vengeance. Angels must show punishment to those who have wronged in life, musn't they?”_

Clint never hears the man's response.

He walks out of the main building with Sig wrapped around his chest, blood covering most of his face and visible skin, the dark liquid smeared against Sig's smooth scales.

A few hours later, the sun rises to the cacophony a new day brings, animals moving around in the forest below, the golden rays enhancing the garish scene in the compound, scavengers being drawn to the compound and the smell of carrion.

 

~^~^~

 

Minutes pass and Phil still doesn't make the mistake of moving. He stands in front of Director Fury's desk, Bell laying across his shoulders again as she watches Nipun through drooping eyelids. For what may be the hundredth time, Phil sees Fury read through the dirty piece of paper clenched in his hands.

After the successful yet fucked up mission in the Congo, the executive order had gone out to all active field agents. If they came in contact with Hawkeye, they should attempt to recruit him. Phil bit back his opinion that if Hawkeye continued, no agent would get a chance to get close enough to speak to him. He had been going through a pile of files in his office when an agent had burst through his door. The agent had ignored the gun pointed at his face and instead shoved a piece of paper forward in his hand, cat daemon bristling with her ears pulled back.

Warily, Phil took the paper and read through it, Bell reading over his shoulder. The agent froze when Phil looked up, steel in his eyes.

“Where did you get this, Agent?”

The agent shifted. “On the mission to the Congo apparently. I found it in the pocket of my uniform in Medical.”

Phil nodded his head. “Get yourself back to Medical, Agent. I'll take care of this.”

With what looked like relief on his face, the agent had backed out of Phil's office and darted down the hall, a slight limp the only obvious injury from his mission. He was one of the lucky ones. Phil shook his head, reaching back and running his fingers over the fur on the top of Bell's head. She purred for a moment in pleasure before nudging his hand in the direction of his computer.

With a sigh, Phil looked at the stack of files on his desk as he sent a message to Maria, one also going to Fury. Phil stood, readjusting the gun on his waist as he walked out of his office into the hall. Various agents pressed themselves against the walls as he walked by, the look on his face enough for them to start speculating and spreading rumours. He bit back a sigh as a low murmur started in the cubicles as he started in the direction of the elevator.

The elevator was empty when Phil got in, and it stayed empty. Bell dropped off his shoulders as they started moving up, the windowed walls giving a wonderful view of the Shield compound and the hustling traffic outside of its boundaries. Phil heard a slight thump as Bell hit the ground, brushing up against his pant leg as he looked out over New York City, Stark Tower a brilliant beacon in the center.

“Let's see the mood our good Director is in, shall we?”

Phil nodded his head, turning to the door and placing his hand on the side of the wall.

“Agent Coulson, cleared.” The doors opened with a cheerful little chirp and he walked through, noting how the secretary was absent. On her lunch break, which was lucky for her.

The carpet muffled his footsteps and Phil did not bother knocking when he got to Fury's office door. Nipun greeted them with a loud beak clack, ruffling his feathers at Phil's blank expression.

“What do you have for me, Phil?”

Phil took his spot next to the chair, placing the paper on his desk neatly, “Nothing you will like.”

Nick shrugged, reaching forward as Bell leaped back onto Phil's shoulders, her claws biting into the reinforced fabric of his coat. Phil watched as Nick read through the paper, his entire body stilling the farther he got down, one hand clenching on the desk surface. Nipun flared his feathers, increasing his size as he read along.

Knowing the early warning signs of the twitching muscle next to Nick's eye, Phil stood as still as possible, Bell keeping her tail still against his neck from her perch. As the vein above Fury's eye begins to throb, Phil definitely does not pray for Maria to come and break the tension currently filling the room.

“That bastard!” Phil turns his flinch into a blink as Nick's hand comes down on the desk in front of him, the paper crumpled beyond recognition in his hand. He meets Nick's eye and raises an eyebrow. “I can not believe the balls on this man. First, he saves our agents not once, but three times, then, the third time he fucking gives us this?” The paper is shaken in the air, crackling at the movement.

The door opens behind Phil. “I would ask if I was interrupting, but I know I am, so I won't.”

“Come on in, Maria, and see what our little savior has to say for himself.”

Maria catches Phil's eyes as she approaches the desk, Finian a step behind her. She takes the paper and reads it out loud. 

“You owe me. Stop losing your goddamned agents, you should be better at this, Shield, I'm damn tired of saving them for you. Also, put your comm lines on a secure channel for once would you? Signed, H. P.S. Train your agents' daemons better, your targets can learn anything they want from their reactions. See you soon.” Maria raises one eyebrow. “Are we sure it's from him?”

“Well, seeing as it came from one of the agents who was on the mission in the Congo, who was captured and brought to the Leech compound in the rainforest, who saw Hawkeye free them from their prison and then go out the door, then, yes, we're sure it's from him, Maria.”

She raises her hands in front of her, “Geez, no need to bite my head off Phil, it was just a question.”

Nick shakes his head, “Naw, Cheese is under a lot of pressure right now.” Phil glares at him as Maria arches an eyebrow. “He's worried about Hawkeye because he's dropped off the grid even more than usual.”

“No, I'm worried because with your masochistic tendencies, you actually expect me to get information on him when Intel cannot physically get information on him. So without an actual deep psychological conversation with Hawkeye, you need to understand the limits of your organization and accept them any way you can without taking it out on your people.” Fury and Maria watch as Phil turns his back and stalks out of the office, his shoulders tense and Bell's tail flicking against his back.

After the door closes, Maria looks at Fury, her eyes dark and hard.

“What did you do.”

Fury shrugs again. “Nothing he can't handle.”

Finian gets up, hissing at Nipun on his perch as Maria sighs. “I'll go talk him down from shooting you.”

He laughs as she leaves. “If he wanted to, his gun would have been drawn the moment he walked into my office, Maria.”

The door closes with a soft click and Nick sighs, looking at the crumpled paper on his desk. “Jesus. What are we going to do with him?”

“What we have to.”

 

~^~^~

 

“Phil. Phil. Phil. Phil. Phil. Phil. Phil. Phil. Phil.”

Gritting his teeth, Phil ignores the insistent voice, focusing instead on the file sitting in front of him, on the form asking permission to order twenty five thousand pens. Considering the amount of violence and destruction pens are used for in Shield, it isn't an uncommon request and Phil reads through it before signing off. Thankfully, the voice stops. As he reaches for the next file on his desk, a paw pokes sharply at the back of his head.

“Phil. Hey, Phil.” His head is poked viciously every time his name is said, and Phil considers the pen between his clenched fingers. “Phil.” Poke. “Phil.” Poke. “Phil.” Poke.

“I am seriously considering violent things with this pen if you say my name one more time, Bell.” She sniffs, tossing her head before walking onto the edge of his desk. Phil narrows his eyes at her as she inches closer to his files. “Don't you dare.”

Bell gives him a look, her tail trailing quietly along behind her. “Don't I dare do what? Force you to go home at twelve thirty at night so you can sleep maybe the first six hours this month?”

Phil glares at her without much heat, already closing the file in front of him and standing up. Exhaustion settles over his shoulders and he bites back a groan, Bell rubbing her head against his arm where it is resting on his cluttered desk. She hops off his desk, walking towards the door as he slowly collects himself, a smirk hovering over her lips. 

Tucking a few files under his arm, Phil follows her out his door, shutting off the light with a sigh. He closes it behind him, looking out over the empty cubicles down the hall, his eyes drooping. Bell brushes her tail against his leg and he follows her gentle guiding towards the elevator. Sooner than Phil remembers, he and Bell are standing in front of Lola.

Bell hops into the passengers seat as Phil gets into the drivers seat with a faint smile. He runs his hands over her steering wheel before starting her up. Knowing how tired he is, Phil pushes the autopilot button on the console, leaning back with his hands resting on the wheel as Lola pulls out of her parking space and onto the road. 

Sweet spring air rushes over the windshield and into the cabin, Bell crunching herself down onto her seat as they approach their apartment building. Phil lets Lola take them down a side street and park herself in their designated spot, pulling out the keys, quieting Lola's rumblings in the night. Bell jumps out of her side, Phil collecting his files as he dreams of sitting in bed with a warm cup of coffee.

He unlocks the doors to the building, not bothering to check his mail when he walks past. Bell bounds ahead of him on the stairs, her dappled coat blending in with the tile in the dim light. Everything is starting to get a soft glow around them as Phil reaches his floor, the stairwell door closing behind him with a bang when he starts down the hall. He walks quietly, tiredly, his shoulders starting to slump when he fumbles his keys into the lock. Grabbing the doorknob, Phil lets himself in, ignoring the slight tingle of the print scan of his security system, flicking on a few lights and dropping his files on the front table. 

Bell motions him to the kitchen and he follows, starting a pot of coffee as she stares at him from the counter. Dimly aware of the pounding music in a car down in the streets below, Phil leans down and opens the door to his fridge. All the soft edges of exhaustion sharpen with annoyance as he stares at the shelves.

Bell sighs. “We're out of milk, aren't we?”

“Yes.” Phil groans, banging his head against the handle, thinking about the walk to the corner store down the street. Bell snickers, getting off the counter and landing with a grunt, her tail drooping behind her as she heads for the door.

“I know you can't have your coffee without milk, so let's go and get it done with.”

Phil straightens and goes after her, leaving the kitchen light on but turning all the rest off, giving one longing look in the direction of his bedroom, the door closing behind him.

Numbly, Phil goes back down the stairs, Bell a comforting warmth beside him, the spring air waking them up a little bit more as they start down the street. It does not take long before they reach the little store. Phil opens it and winces at the bell that jingles above their heads. Nobody else is in the store except himself, Bell, the cashier, and her daemon. They are regarded with bored interest when he places the milk on the counter.

Phil lets his shoulders relax once they are outside again, a sigh of relief turning into a yawn on the way out. They pay no attention to the car driving past them in the dark, only taking the time to glance at the driver. Heavy eyebrows over deep-set eyes and broad, strong shoulders. Phil tenses at the sight and reaches for his belt as the car screeches to a halt in front of them.

Bell hisses, tail lashing, but just as his hand touches the butt of his gun, a heavy object connects with the back of Phil's head, and darkness seeps over his mind.

 

~^~^~

 

Phil wakes suddenly, his mind shooting into consciousness and his body staying limp where he's slumped. A brush of fur against his ankle has Phil relaxing minutely, his breathing steady, his head still tucked against his chest. Phil takes the time to categorize his situation.

A gentle tugs tells him all he needs to know about his bindings. The rope is tight against his arms. A slight stickiness to his fingers as he rubs them together has Phil wincing at the rawness of his wrists. The thickness of his thoughts has Phil holding back a grimace, knowing that he probably has another concussion. No doubt this will piss Bell off, as head injuries affect a person's daemon as much as it affects them.

Phil hears the door open with a slight creak, the sound echoing in the room. Bell rumbles in her chest as two pairs of footsteps approach Phil. 

A swoosh of air is all the warning Phil gets before he's drenched in liquid. He jerks at the coldness of the water and gasps, shaking his hair out of his eyes as he glares at the two men. They regard Phil coolly, watching as he shivers and Bell hisses at them from under his chair. Their daemons are nowhere to be seen, and Phil shivers again, but this time not because of the water dripping down the back of his neck.

The door opens again, and Phil freezes, staring as a dreadfully familiar woman enters.

“Well, hello there, Phillip. I didn't think we would be meeting this soon, but you know how I can't resist your beautiful face.”

The two men leave the room at a flick of her hand and she waits until the door clicks closed, her Cassowary daemon cackling loudly at Bell. “Here, kitty kitty kitty.”

Veronica nudges the large black bird out of her way, ignoring Bell as she hisses from under Phil's chair. Phil watches, calm as she approaches, one of her hands coming forward to stroke gently at his cheek. He keeps his head still, refusing to wince as those fingers turn to claws against his skin.

“I would say the pleasure is all mine, but we both know that's not true.”

Veronica giggles, stroking down his nose before patting his shoulders. “This is a time for relaxation, you should take your jacket off, stay awhile.”

Phil shifts his shoulders as she gets his jacket off as far as his bound hands, the telltale sound of a knife being drawn as he lets a wince through. “I seem to be a little tied up right now, so it may not be the best time.” 

“Looks like I'm going to have to change that.” Two swift cuts and Phil's jacket falls to the floor, Veronica straddling his lap with her knife still in hand.

Phil shrugs. “I would say sorry, but you know my schedule seems to be full.”

Veronica grins, flipping her hair over her shoulder as her Cassowary taunts Bell again. “Here, kitty kitty kitty.”

“As I said, Phil, looks like I'm going to have to change that.” Phil shivers at her cold fingers against the nape of his neck, playing with the damp hair there. He refuses to meet her playful green eyes as she leans forward. Resolutely, he looks at the area of perfectly tanned skin between her eyes, her lips forming a pout as she catches on. “Come on, Phil, am I boring you already? Because we can do some things I have in mind if you want.” As he opens his mouth to answer, Veronica lunges forwards, her hands gripping the back of his head so he can't move, her lips gently biting at his chin. Glancing up from under her thick lashes, her body slides closer. 

Bell hisses again under his chair, the Cassowary cackling as it inches closer. “Here, kitty kitty kitty. Come out and play.”

Veronica ignores them, but a brush of fur against Phil's ankle has him relaxing as she licks and nips her way down his throat, her hands leaving his hair to stroke down his chest. “My, my, Phil. You look so sexy like this.”

Phil raises one eyebrow. “And how would you describe 'this', Veronica?”

She chuckles. “You, here, tied up, no suit jacket, and absolutely lovely with your clothes plastered to you. It's delicious.” A slight hum against his collarbone. “Although, I'll have to do something about that tie.”

Bell hisses louder as Veronica plays with the knot of his navy blue tie, and Phil knows her ears are back, fur bristling while her tail lashes violently. Strangely, as Veronica slowly loosens his tie, Phil thinks back to the note Hawkeye had left, about how Shields daemons need to control themselves more.

“If I may say something, Veronica?”

“Anything for you, Phillip.”

_“Bell, calm down, remember what Hawkeye said.”_

Veronica narrows her eyes at him, her fingers tightening on the fabric of his shirt enough that he can feel her nails on his skin. “What was that?”

Leaning forward, Phil nuzzles past her hair to her ear, his nose just brushing the cartilage. She shivers. “Your eyes look lovely with that dress.”

Out the corner of his eye, Phil can see the Cassowary fluff up his feathers and Veronica's cheeks pinken. Her hands return to stroking the hair at the back of his neck and she leans back, pushing her arms closer to her chest, causing her breasts to press against the top of her low cut dress. Veronica flutters her eyes.

“You think so?” Phil nods. “You know who else had eyes like mine? Hmmm? Antonio, my beautiful brother, had eyes even brighter than mine. They would flash like jewels when he was in the sun, and they always got him the women, or men, he wanted.” Veronica's eyes started to fill with tears. “But he loved me the most. And he brought me the best presents out of all our siblings. Our father had us married outside of town, a month before Antonio was killed. It was the happiest month of my life. And then you showed up.”

Phil tenses slightly as Veronica leans forward, their noses brushing. “I showed up?”

“Yes. You with a whole platoon of Shield agents. You left, and my Antonio is dead.”

“I'm sorry to hear about your loss, but Shield was not-”

The crack fills the room and Phil keeps his head to the side as Veronica gets off his lap. “Shield was there and you know it. You're not here to give me information, you're here so I can have my revenge for Antonio. You know your place and your purpose.”

Phil watches as she turns her back and walks out of the room, her hips swaying with each step. Her Cassowary titters at Bell before following, most likely at the end of their bond range as she leans out and murmurs something to the guards in the hall. Two large men enter the room, carrying assorted things under their arms. After the bucket, hose, board, and car battery, Phil averts his eyes.

Veronica watches with a smile on her face as Phil finally meets her gaze, the scar tissue on the side of her face shining in the harsh fluorescent lighting. “Make sure to keep away from his face. I want to recognize it after you're done.”

 

~^~^~

 

Clint jerks awake at the insistent beeping. He blinks blearily at his surroundings, latching onto the sight of a small red blinking light. The light that he set up to blink every time the executive comms of SHIELD were used. Sig hisses as Clint moves, her coils falling off his lap and onto the cold floor with a slap. He ignores her and reaches for his headset, Sig shifting in his lap. Putting it on, his world is taken over by yelling and shouting, in time with the little red blinking light.

Sig straightens as he tenses, her head bumping against the side of one headphone, the voices easily heard in her position. Wincing, Clint has to turn down the volume before he can concentrate on actual words.

“Sir, Agent Coulson has not checked in for work this morning, nor has he called in sick.”

“Goddammit.”

“A team is on-route to his apartment as we speak, sir.”

“It had better fucking be there, Agent Hill and I'll be very angry if they're not!”

Clint swears under his breath as he hears a click on the channel, his fingers finding their way back into the mainframe of SHIELD. Just as Clint connects with the Director's computer monitor, a video pops up.

“Sir, we're on site, nothing appears to be wrong.”

The video shows the tip of a gun floating up the stairs and down a hallway, the picture bouncing with each step.

“Don't fucking tell me nothing is wrong when we don't know what the hell is going on, Agent.”

“Yes, sir.”

Sig's head sways to the side as an agent unlocks Agent Coulson's front door, swinging it open slowly as the rest of the team takes up positions behind him. The comms are silent as the agent on point raises a closed fist.

“Clear.”

They continue down the front hall, checking each door they come across and each time they give the signal. When they get to the kitchen, Clint swears. Thankfully, one of the agents points out the pot of coffee on the counter with the evaporation mark. Sig flicks her tongue against his chin as he slumps back in his chair, the wire to his headphones pulling tight.

Agent Hill speaks up on the comms. “Check the fridge.”

One of the agents on screen pulls open the refrigerator door, a quick scan of the shelves showing not much in the means of food, although Clint spots a very strange place between the bell peppers and cottage cheese for gun ammunition.

“Thank you, agents. Please check the streets surrounding the building and report.”

Another click, and the video cuts off, the Director and Agent Hill silent for a moment.

“Where the fuck is he, Hill?” Clint hears her sigh, already looking for Agent Coulson as they talk.

“You know how he takes his coffee at home. With milk and a bit of sugar. Nick, there wasn't any milk in his fridge.”

Director Fury growls under his breath, the sound of a large beak clacking in the background. “Fucking hell, Coulson.”

At those words, Clint slips out of the comm channels and into the employee files of SHIELD. Because if Agent Coulson was kidnapped, there has to be a reason. And Clint is aware of four, maybe five reasons Coulson was taken. And the place to start is to look for any loose ends, revenge being one of the top two reasons Clint himself has been kidnapped. Finding what he was looking for, Clint leans back into his chair, raising his eyebrows as he observes the length of Agent Phillip Coulson's file. Clint begins to scroll through, skimming over each mission statement before moving on to the next if nothing there gives him an idea of what happened to Coulson yesterday. Sig is a comforting weigh against his shoulders as he reads through a particularly nasty mission, his opinion of Coulson rising steadily.

Clint knows he shouldn't care this much about the abduction of a senior SHIELD agent. Because he shouldn't care at all. But the fact remains that for some reason he does. Sig remains at his side as he reads through Coulson's life story, a small knot forming in his chest as he thinks about where Coulson is currently. For some reason Coulson has tunneled his way into Clint's mind and earpiece each time he has saved SHIELD agents from a fucked up situation. Coulson has formed some sort of connection between the two of them, purposely or not, and Clint doesn't really have many connections to people.

Every few hours, Clint checks to see how SHIELD is doing in locating their missing agent. It takes Clint two days before he gets a location on Coulson. Ignoring how SHIELD is still messing around with their red herrings, Clint races around his apartment, collecting as many arrows as he can find and dumping them all into a reinforced duffel bag. Sig curls herself around the bow leaning against the wall in the kitchen, watching him as he runs around the living room.

Finally, Clint scoops up the bow and slings it across his back, Sig taking her spot on his shoulders, tail flicking impatiently against his elbow. “Hurry up, Clint.”

“I am. Jesus.” The last thing he grabs before leaving their flat is a first aid kit, the biggest one he has in his collection, because Phil has gotten himself into a sticky situation, and revenge torture is the worst.

 

~^~^~

 

On the third day since Agent Coulson has gone missing, Clint sneaks up to the side of the building the man is being held in and scales it. A quick scan of the roof shows a rusty access door propped open by a cinder block. Sig tightens her coils in anticipation as he unslings his bow and nocks an arrow, nudging the door open with his toe. 

Clint goes down the steps as quickly as possible, making no noise on the concrete stairs, the only sound the pounding of blood in his ears.

Once he reaches the bottom, Clint cracks open the door just enough to get a glimpse of the hallway. And to hear the screams. Clint feels Sig tightening around his chest, his breathing becoming labored as she squeezes. 

The sound of laughter breaks through the screaming and Sig loosens her hold on Clint, already slipping smoothly to the floor as two men pass the door. Their laughter is cut short when they both get an arrow to their throats. Clint watches as Sig shoots down the hall, making her way to the screaming as Clint follows as quickly as he can. He steps over the bodies and piles of gold, only stopping to collect his arrows. 

Clint follows Sig through the halls of the building, killing anyone he comes across and getting progressively closer to the screams. Just as he watches Sig's tail vanish around the last corner, the laughter starts up again. Sig softly hisses at the metal door she comes across, Clint stepping past her to check the next door over.

“His daemon is in here.” Clint whips his head to Sig, staring at her as she moves restlessly in front of the door. “With the others. And the woman.”

“Well, wait before you go kill her, won't you? I want to see if he's in here or not.”

Impatient, Sig slithers over and flicks her tongue. “He is, now come on.” Clint follows her back to the first door, three arrows knocked and ready with Sig at his side.

Just as the screams start up again, this time with an unearthly howling in the room in front of them, Sig taps her tail against the floor three times and bumps her head against the bottom of the door. Used to her silent conversation, Clint plants his foot solidly underneath the doorknob and kicks. All movement stops in the room, two bodies falling to the floor and two showering bursts of gold as Clint aims his last arrow at the tall woman standing in the center.

_“Look who we have here.”_  She giggles, not noticing as Sig skirts the corner of the room in shadows, getting closer to her bare ankle. Clint locks eyes with the Cassowary standing over the panting clouded leopard, her eyes sliding closed as the woman laughs.  _“A man with a bow here to save the day? I think not.”_  

_“You seem pretty confident about that Mrs. Rousseau.”_  

Her gaze flattens.  _“An informed man then. How quaint.”_

Clint nods his head to the side, still staring down the Cassowary and taking a step forward, the bird chittering uncomfortably and shifting its weight.  _“Yeah, plenty of men were looking to give up your name, and I didn't even have to pay them. Weird, right? But, enough chit chat, you have something I want, and I'm going to take it.”_

Like her bird, Veronica cocks her head to the side, a smirk twisting her lips.  _“Oh? And you think you're going to get it? Why is that?”_

_“First of all, because you'll be dead, and second, because I can.”_

Her eyes narrow dangerously as her bird charges him, Sig latching around Veronica's ankle and wiggling her teeth around, ignoring how the woman kicks her leg, screaming. Clint smirks as she falls to the ground writhing, her Cassowary doing the same. Sig detaches from her prey and slithers over to the small cat on the ground, gently flicking her tongue on the top of the cats head.

“You know you're going to have to pick her up, Clint.”

He sighs, stowing his last arrow away and slinging his bow over his back as he approaches the cat. “Yeah, I know.” He keels down beside the cat, not making any move to touch her yet.

She slits one eye and stares at him, “If you're going to kill me, do it already.”

Clint blinks. “I'm not going to kill you. I'm going to pick you up, and I'm going to bring you back to Coulson.”

The cat twitches, Sig hissing quietly at her obvious pain. Clint shoots her a look and she stills. 

“Why would you do that?”

Fed up, Sig hisses, “Because we can.”

The cat narrows her eyes, staring at Sig before twitching her tail in recognition. If Clint was hallucinating, he would say she looked relieved.

“Okay, pick me up, Hawkeye.”

Clint blinks before sliding his hands forward and slipping them under her body. She hisses as one hand brushes past a sticky patch of fur and he avoids it neatly, trying to ignore the flush of warmth that goes through him. Sig herself twitches when he cradles Coulson's daemon against his chest, the taboo beating wildly against his skin, harsh memories crashing in a battle with the warmth. A rock steady feeling drops over Clint, and he stands, soft fur flat against his arms as the cat curls her tail around his elbow, eyes falling closed. Sig hisses again, snapping him out of his bubble.

“Yeah, Coulson, right.”

The clouded leopard snickers against his arm and he walks out of the room, focusing on the cat in his arms. When he reaches the next door, Clint discovers a problem.

“I'm going to have to kick the door down.”

The clouded leopard moans in his arms. “I don't care just do it.”

Clint shrugs and cradles her against his chest, before kicking the door down with a bang.

Electricity crackles in the air and against Clint's skin and he rushes into the room, nearly slipping on a puddle of water. Bound in the middle to a steel chair is Agent Coulson. He's still in his shirt and tie, his dress shoes soggy and his pants plastered to his muscled thighs. Coulson moans, head lolling to the side and Clint sees blood dripping down his hairline, staining the top of one shoulder red. 

Cautiously, Clint approaches the agent, his daemon still cradled in his arms, her tail flicking against his elbow as he gets closer to her human. Coulson mutters something under his breath and Clint bends, gently putting the clouded leopard on his lap. She buries her head in Agent Coulson's hip, her paws kneading his stomach as Clint kicks the still sparking clamps away from the chair and into the corner of the room.

Sig curls her way up his leg, resting her head on the top of his hair, following the length of the cats spine on Coulson's lap. Clint makes his way to the back of the chair, his eyes falling down where Coulson's bound wrists strain towards his daemon, comfort being unconsciously demanded. Dropping onto his heels, Clint unsheathes a knife from his vest and cuts the rope in one quick movement. To Clint's amusement, the clouded leopard has begun poking Coulson in the stomach, whispering his name each time she pokes him.

Knowing how shoulders can cramp when the arms are tied tightly behind the back, Clint rubs Coulson's shoulders gently, kneading out the knots that have formed and bringing his arms back around to his front, careful around the raw skin of his wrists as he moves. Coulson moans again and Clint stills, his fingers remaining on the backs of the agents hands where they rest on his lap. The skin of Clint's wrist brushes against the clouded leopards fur and he jerks back at the contact. Snickering, Sig hits him on the back of his head sharply with her tail as Coulson begins to slowly flex his fingers, wincing as the blood rushes back to them.

“Well, go on.” Clint flinches at the soft voice and guiltily looks down at Coulson's hands before reaching down with his own and rubbing at the stiff joints, almost swearing when he realizes how cold the hands are.

“Jesus, people don't know how to properly bind others with rope anymore, and that's a crying shame.” Clint shakes his head in anger as he continues to rub the warmth back into Coulson's hands, ignoring it as they twitch in his grip. Sig's head shoots up as Coulson mutters something, Clint stilling, his shoulders tensing as the clouded leopard snickers.

“You're going to have to speak up Phil. We can't hear you, you big lout.”

Coulson's chest heaves and Clint glances at his chest through the shirt, the fabric plastered against his skin and clearly showing how defined the agent's torso is. Sig snickers when Clint rips his gaze from the long line of Coulson's neck, his cheeks burning as the clouded leopard continues to poke Agent Coulson. 

“Don't forget the ones around his ankles.” Clint ducks his head at Sig's quiet murmur, focusing on cutting the ropes around Coulson's legs. Once the ropes are gone, Clint returns his attention to rubbing Coulson's hands around his daemon as she pokes him.

“Phil. Phil. Phiiiiiiil.” Coulson groans and Clint bites back a smirk as she continues with the poking. “Phil. Phil. Phil. Phil. Phil. Phi-”

“If you poke me one more time Bell, I _will_ use my pen for violence.” Clint glances up, Coulson looking down at Bell for a moment before meeting his eyes.

She chuckles. “Look at that, sleeping beauty is awake!”

Sig huffs a laugh next to Clint's ear and he twitches when Coulson's fingers close around his. Suddenly nervous, Clint looks everywhere but at Coulson's face, opting to stare at their tangled fingers against the backdrop of Bell's spotted fur.

“Well, how about a handshake Hawkeye?” Clint starts at the low voice, looking up at Coulson and his outstretched hand.

“I'm Phil Coulson, senior agent of SHIELD-”

“And I,” Bell tosses her head around to stare at Clint and Sig. “Am Belladonna, senior daemon of SHIELD.”

Coulson raises one eyebrow as Clint hesitates, wavering slightly on the balls of his feet before Sig prods him on the back of the head. He nudges her and she rests her cheek against his, tongue flicking against his chin.

“I'm Clint Barton, devilishly handsome savior and World's Greatest Marksman.” Clint grabs Coulson's hand in his own, Sig holding herself off of his shoulder enough to look him in the eye.

“And I'm Sigrun, daemon of this dumbass.”

Coulson starts laughing before he leans forward, one hand pressing against his side as he winces.

Clint puts his hands on his shoulders, murmuring under his breath as Sig slides off his shoulder. “Hey, easy there. C'mon, sit back up, lemme see what they did.”

He reaches behind him as Coulson leans back, knowing that Sig has shoved his first aid kit close. 

Coulson shakes his head, one hand going up to cradle the side of his face. “No, I'm fine.”

Snorting, Clint moves his hand away gently, cupping his jaw with his own hand and stroking the skin as he presses against his side. Coulson hisses when he moves his hand away, Sig hissing along with him.

“Like hell you are. Now stay still and tell me where it hurts.”

Bell coughs out a laugh from where she's laying in Coulson's lap, “He wouldn't tell you where it hurts even if he was bleeding out from a stab wound, Clint.”

Coulson glares down at her as she continues to laugh, his jaw clenched as Clint goes about his self-given job, poking and prodding at Coulson's ribs before moving on to the obvious burn marks on his shoulders.

“Stop moving, Jesus.”

Coulson shifts again, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Clint is crouched on the ground between his legs, hands moving to the back of his head to check for bleeding, hips resting against the metal bottom of the chair, and thighs bracketing his sides.

“I will, once you stop poking at the parts that hurt.”

As if to dare him, Bell pokes Coulson in the stomach, glancing down at Sig where she rests against the floor, coiling around Clint's feet as he reaches back for a bottle.

Coulson watches as he shakes out two into his hand, closing the bottle before shoving them in his direction. “Here, take these, they're just painkillers. I'm going to alert SHIELD of your whereabouts.”

Clint stands, putting the pills into Coulson's hand and turning to the door, pulling out a phone from his vest pocket. Bell paws at Coulson's hand, pushing it towards his face.

“Take them, Phil.”

Coulson sighs as he stares down at them, Sig's tail disappearing around the doorframe, the only sign of the two of them the dead bodies lurking in the hallway and the first aid kit still open on the floor. After a short internal battle, the throbbing at his side and in his head winning, Agent Coulson gives in and swallows them both dry, tipping his head back against the chair as Bell sits up on his lap.

A little while later, a soft hand rests on his shoulder, a thumb stroking the line of his neck. Bell doesn't move from her spot on his lap, sleeping peacefully enough for Phil to be relaxed.

“They'll be here soon, sleep well Agent Coulson, Bell.” 

Clint turns from the room, hoping his ears tricked him into thinking Coulson sighed when he put his hand on his shoulder. Sig loops languidly around his shoulders, head still staring back at the sleeping pair.

 

~^~^~

 

Phil wakes up in SHIELD Medical with a needle in his arm, bandages around his ribs, and a foul mood.

Bell stares with her tail drooping as Phil rips the IV from his arm, ignoring the beeping of the machine as he swings his legs over the edge of the bed. His ribs protest but Phil fights through the pain and looks around the room for his shirt.

“Phil, what are you doing?”

He turns to Bell, spotting his shirt on the back of the visitor chair and throwing it on his shoulders before answering. “I'm making myself useful.”

Bell sighs. “By breaking out of Medical where you're supposed to be healing?”

“I refuse to do nothing when I'm perfectly capable of continuing my job.” Bell doesn't argue as Phil finishes dressing and makes his way to the door, pushing past the doctor who attempts to waylay him, her badger daemon bristling near her feet. Instead, Bell hisses at the badger, her tail lashing as she follows Phil down the hall, nurses and doctors pressing themselves against the walls and ducking back into rooms to avoid them both.

Once safely in the elevator, Bell jumps onto Phil's shoulder and rubs her head under his chin, forcing his skull back against the window. “Stop worrying.”

“Worrying? About what?” Bell stays quiet as Phil walks down the hall, sliding between two agents and into his office, locking the door behind him with a sigh. He collapses into his seat, allowing himself to wince as it jars his still tender ribs.

Bell slides off Phil's shoulder and onto his desk. “You're doing it again, Phil.”

Exasperated, Phil reaches around her to get a pen, jerking back when Bell takes a swipe at his hand, claws out. “Doing what? You have yet to say what I'm worrying about, Bell.”

“You need to stop worrying about Clint and Sigrun, they're fine.” Bracing herself against the edge of the desk, Bell puts her front paws on Phil's shoulders, shoving down as hard as she can. “Relax. They're fine.”

Phil reaches up and strokes one hand down her spine, rubbing his fingers in the soft fur, ignoring the knocking on the door.

“How do we know they're fine?”

Bell shrieks, jumping off the desk and curling into a ball on the floor. She buries her nose in her paws, “We don't alright!”

The knocking at his door stopped at Bell's shriek, and Phil only looks at the door for a moment before the doorknob falls to the floor and it swings open. Director Fury stares at Phil slumped in his seat and Bell on the floor before shaking his head and closing the door behind them, sticking the knob back into its hole. Nipun clacks his beak at the sight of them and resettles himself on Fury's shoulder.

Bell snarls as Fury sits down in the visitors chair. Leaning back, Fury meets Phil's eyes evenly, shaking his head.

“You two are a wreck.”

Nipun flinches as Bell shrieks again, jumping on Phil's lap and burrowing under the edge of his jacket, forming a quivering lump against his side. Phil bites back a smile and rests his arm against her, holding her in place as she kneads his side.

He nods. “Yes, we are.”

“Would you like to tell me why?”

Phil looks out the windows in his office. “Nope.”

“Would you tell me why you aren't still in Medical?”

“No.”

Fury straightens, his hands fists against his knees. “Well, you had better fucking tell me whether you like it or not, because I don't need a fucking unstable senior agent wandering around SHIELD right now, Cheese! So you had better spill the metaphorical beans before I send you home on leave!”

Phil blinks. Bell mewls under his coat as he leans forward, resting his forearms against his desk, papers crinkling under the weight.

“I refuse to be useless in Medical when I could be doing work, we haven't been sleeping well for the past two weeks, and we seem to be worrying about a certain little helper team that hasn't surfaced in the past two weeks. If you have a problem with that sir, you may file a formal complaint with our HR Department within the day.”

Fury stares at Phil for a moment. “Fucking hell, Cheese.”

“Yeah, that sums it up pretty well.”

He shakes his head in disbelief, leaning back in his chair, Nipun rubbing the side of his beak against his head, his orange head feathers smoothing down. “Why didn't you fucking tell me earlier Phil? We could have talked and prevented  _this_.” Fury waves one hand in the direction of Phil and the lump attached to his side. “So, what's up?”

Phil rolls his eyes. “Starting today, or what happened in Canada?”

“Christ, of course this started in fucking Canada. Let's start there.”

Bell pokes her head out of Phil's jacket long enough to glare at Fury as Phil thinks of the best place to start. “Do you want to hear about the monologuing or skip it?”

“Only you would get a fucking monologue, Cheese. Just fucking start already.”

Shrugging, Phil explains. “Well, after the monologuing and some comment about my face, they started with the waterboarding. After a while they got bored, and started throwing in electrocution into the mix. Naturally switching between the two, you know how it goes.” Fury nods his head in agreement, motioning for him to go on. “So, they decided we needed a break, and when they came back they told us that they weren't having enough fun, so they grabbed Bell and took her into the next room to have, and I quote, a little fun. I don't remember what happened after the door closed, but soon enough, I had Hawkeye rubbing the warmth back into my hands and Bell poking me from my lap.” Phil misses Fury looking at him with concern, clearly not liking the outburst. “We had a little chat, he gave me painkillers telling me he was calling SHIELD, and he left.”

Bell mumbles something from Phil's coat, knowing which parts he left out from his narration, but she lets it go.

“Phil-”

“So, that's that and now you know why I'm in such a foul mood, sir.”

“Goddammit, Phil. Shut up for a moment, you ass.” Phil tenses as Bell hisses, her claws digging into his ribs and he winces. Fury stands up, rubbing a hand across his head, Nipun staying on his perch on the back of the chair. He lets out a large breath. “See, this is why I get mad when you don't fucking tell me these things, Cheese. I can't protect you if you don't fucking trust me, and then shit like this happens! You get kidnapped and SHIELD can't find you faster than some fucking mercenary.”

“Ex-mercenary, sir.”

Bewildered, Fury turns back to face Phil. “What?”

“He is an ex-mercenary, sir.”

“And how the fuck do you know that?”

Phil raises one eyebrow, unfazed at the scathing remark. “It's a hunch, sir.”

“Oh for fucks sake,” Fury glares at Phil, ignoring Bell as she crawls out from Phil's jacket, her fur puffed up against the no longer warm air. Unconsciously one of Phil's hands drops down into the fur between her shoulders and she drops onto his lap. “We'll keep an eye out for him and his daemon, but don't expect us to get anything alright?” Fury turns his back as Phil nods, Nipun stepping onto the proffered arm and climbing up it, his head swaying from side to side with each step before he gets to his padded shoulder rest. “And Phil?”

He glances up from a file. “Yes, sir?”

“She died of questionable circumstances.”

“Such as?”

Fury rolls his eyes. “I mean, she died not by gunshot or an arrow to the throat, she died by the potent venom of a particularly dangerous snake bite to the ankle.” Phil just blinks, his face blank. “And go home before eleven tonight alright, Cheese? I don't need Maria coming for my throat if you stay here for one more all nighter.”

And with that, he walks out of the room, closing the door hard enough the knob falls out and Phil can hear Fury swearing out in the hall. He chuckles and turns back to the paperwork in front of him, a pen held loosely in his fingers as Bell nudges at his other hand with her nose. 

 

~^~^~

 

Maria stares at Phil as he clenches his fingers around a pen, Bell on his lap again. “I don't want to come, Maria.”

Finian snorts as she raises an eyebrow, noticing how Phil glances down at her daemon. “But Jasper will be so upset when I tell him. And anyways, don't you need a break right now?” Maria knows she has won when Phil throws his pen on his desk, staring at it as it skids across multiple open files. “Come on Phil, it's only for fifteen minutes, then you can come back to your boring papers. Or, you could stay here and do paperwork when we go and watch the junior agents get beaten up.”

Bell jumps off Phil's lap before he stands, already heading to the door as Maria waits for him to get out of his nest of paperwork. “You find too much joy in violence, Maria.”

She coughs, hiding a smile behind her fist as they start down the hall. “Like you don't get happy watching junior agents getting their rightful beating each week.”

Phil nods at one of his agents as they walk past, their face turning pale as their eyes fall on Maria and Finian. They walk faster. She smiles.

As they get into the elevator, Sitwell comes running up to them, sliding between the doors just before they close, Gigi clutched in his arms. Laughing, Maria steps to the side, allowing Sitwell to bump into the glass as Gigi pecks him rather violently in the hand. She drops to the floor and bumps her beak on the side of Finian's nose, ignoring Sitwell as he gasps for breath.

“Hello, Jasper. Why where you running?”

Jasper flips him off easily, smiling through it as he leans against the rail. “I was fleeing from obligations.”

Phil nods his head in understanding. “So you were running from your appointment in Psych, saying you had an order from an executive and booking it?”

Maria laughs when Jasper glares at him. “You know me way too well. It's kinda terrifying how you said that all with a straight face.”

Phil shrugs. “Well after that time in Indonesia, I think I should be able to.”

Jasper chokes as Maria narrows her eyes at him, thinking back. “Do you mean that time last year or the one in 1998?”

“Last year.” Phil tilts his head, considering Gigi as she settles herself on Finian's back. “That was an interesting mission.”

Maria nods, watching Jasper wipe tears off his face from laughing, composing himself enough to speak. “I never thought that a laundry basket could physically do that before you did it, Phil.”

Bell snickers from the floor near Phil's feet. “Neither did they but they learned their lesson.”

“To say the least.” The elevator stops and all six walk out, Maria making her way down the hall with Jasper and Phil behind her, their faces relatively unknown in the lower levels of SHIELD. They blend in with everyone, just two more suits in a sea in faces. They follow Maria past the shooting range and down a set of small stairs before slipping into the back door of a large room.

The smell of sweat and plastic fills the air as they arrange themselves in a line against the wall, their daemons at their feet as they watch an instructor stalk down the line of exhausted junior agents. 

Maria leans towards Phil, a flyaway hair brushing his cheek as she murmurs into his ear, “Agent Davidson has been charged with teaching them hand to hand combat and general defense for the past year as a part of disciplinary action.”

Phil merely nods, remembering that particular case. “Let us hope that Agent Davidson has learned his lesson.”

Unluckily for Davidson, he seems not to have noticed the presence of three senior agents quietly intruding on his lesson, but the junior agents have, most of their daemons casually glancing over their shoulders to look at the three figures.

As they watch, one agent looks to the side at their daemon to glance at them from the corner of their eye. All the junior agents flinch when Davidson hits the agent in the side viciously. He leans into her face, leering down her chest.

“Does it look like I am done with class, Agent?” His daemon whistles repeatedly on his shoulder, the birds red eyes staring unblinking at the womans black snake, wrapped around her neck. His tail begins to rattle threateningly and he curls up into a striking position, his tongue flicking out as her face stays calm. “Oh, how cute, you look adorable when you're angry.” His Cowbird whistles again, bobbing his head up and down in front of the womans daemon.

Phil can feel Maria and Jasper tensing on his sides as the Cowbird gets too close to the snake and finally, the snake lashes out. With a frantic fluttering of feathers, his daemon takes flight, the snake taking another snap at his tail feathers and Phil hides a smile as a bunch of feathers is pulled free, leaving an unattractive empty chunk in the daemon's tail. Davidson freezes as his daemon begins to utter curses above their heads, making his way towards a small perch in one corner of the room.

Adding insult to injury, the woman reaches up and takes the bunch of feathers from her daemons mouth, letting them pile in her palm before holding her hand in front of Agent Davidson's face and blowing them into the air.

His face turns red and he lunges forward, one hand going around her upper arm in a death grip, his other hand raising behind him as she tries to block him. “You little bitch!”

Stepping forward, Phil clears his throat. “It is customary for an instructor to be kind to his students, never striking them when their back is turned and they are unprepared. A good instructor teaches his students well and without hatred, teaching them all he or she can before the student surpasses the instructor. Take your hand off of your student, Agent Davidson, and apologize for being a terrible instructor to not only to her, but the rest of your class.”

Davidson glares at Phil, not recognizing him as he continues his way to the center of the room. “I'll tell you what, you piss off, forget what you've seen, and nothing untoward will happen to you, or to her.” He jerks his head at the woman still in his grip.

Maria and Jasper watch silently with hard faces as Phil stops a few feet away, his hands folded neatly in front of him, Bell standing next to his leg, her tail curling around his calf. Davidson meets Phil's gaze evenly, missing how the rest of the students have backed away from the senior agent. Phil silently regards the instructor.

“I will ask once more, and then I will not ask you again. Let go of Agent Abott, and all will be well.” Phil smiles at her slightly, noticing how she smiles back, her eyes scrunching in pain as the grip on her arm tightens.

“Listen here,” Davidson lets go of her, and stalks to Phil. “You have no right to be here, I'm teaching these junior agents and you seem to be interrupting.”

Phil raises one eyebrow unimpressed as the large man glowers over him. He doesn't tilt his head up to meet his eyes, instead, Bell leaps onto his shoulders and makes her way to balance on the top of Phil's head, staring into the instructors eyes herself.

He jerks back. “Looks like I'll have to teach you the lesson myself then and show you out.”

Phil shrugs. “Whatever makes you happy.” Bell snickers, dismissively looking away from Davidson.

His jaw clenches along with his fists, and he strikes out, the junior agents gasping as he does so. Phil leans back slightly, the fist sailing past his nose before straightening, Bell barely moving on his head. The growl is audible as Davidson takes a step forward, taking more swings at Phil repeatedly, Phil neatly dodging each one as Bell observes from her perch.

Finally, Phil gets tired of Davidson and moves.

One hand lashes out, wrapping around a large wrist and stopping it in its tracks towards his face, the other making a solid punch to the solar plexus, knocking the wind out of Davidson in a rush. He bends over, the arm not in Phil's grasp coming around his waist.

Calmly, Phil looks down on him. “First lesson. Teach the basics slowly, and thoroughly, allowing the students to practice in pairs, walking through the class and correcting any mistakes.”

With a roar, Davidson lurches forward, his free arm going around Phil's waist and lifting him off the ground as he straightens, meaning to throw him over his back. Everyone in the room watches as Bell trots down Phil's back as he is thrown. Releasing Davidson's wrist, Phil reaches with both arms and grabs the sides of the vest Davidson is wearing, landing neatly on his feet with Bell on his shoulders. Davidson turns to see Phil adjusting his suit, brushing a bit of imaginary lint off one lapel. At the sound of frustration, Phil looks up.

“How rude of you. I was merely giving you some advice on how to teach your class properly.” Bell sniffs on his shoulder as Davidson starts towards Phil again and he sighs. “It looks like this is not going to be done as proper men then. What a shame.”

Phil meets Davidson in the middle of the room, dodging the fists that go for his face, Bell taking her spot on his head again as he swiftly punches Davidson in the stomach, locking one of his legs around the back of Davidson's. His knee reaches three quarters, not even, up Davidson's calf, his pant leg wrinkling with the contact. Before Davidson can wrench himself backwards, off balance, Phil tucks his shoulder into Davidson's armpit, grabs his wrist in one hand and wrenches the larger man neatly over his back and onto the floor.

Silence fills the room, Davidson's heavy breathing breaking it as Phil straightens again, adjusting his suit again as he looks at the man on the floor.

From the way Phil moves, his arms and shoulders relaxed by his sides, his legs loose, that was only a warmup. “Thank you for the demonstration of a complete fool of an instructor, Agent Davidson. Please report to Director Fury's office before the end of the day.” Phil turns to the cluster of junior agents near the door, meeting each of their gazes before smiling. It does nothing to beat away what they just watched. “Class dismissed.”

Bell flicks her tail around her paws from where she sits on Phil's head, stepping down onto his shoulders as he turns to leave with Maria and Jasper. They don't speak until they get back to Phil's office.

When Jasper closes the door, they all burst out laughing, Gigi and Finian rolling on the floor as Phil smiles slightly.

Maria falls onto the couch along the wall, wiping tears from her eyes. “You should have seen his face when you flipped him Phil. Oh my god it was just precious.”

Bell leaps onto Phil's desk neatly, not ruffling any of the papers he has strewn across the surface. As his coworkers get the laugh out of their system, he sends a message to Fury, telling him about the little incident and the visitor he should be getting soon.

Jasper straightens up, Gigi settled on his shoulder as he smiles at Phil. “Well, this was fun, but I do have to go to my unfortunately rescheduled Psych appointment. Bye, Phil, Maria.” They watch as he leaves, turning his head to say something quietly to Gigi as he turns the corner out his door.

With a sigh, Maria stands. “Sadly, I have to go, too.” Phil nods as she leaves, Finian trailing behind her. Once she is gone, he turns back to his computer, checking Fury's reply. Her head pops back round his doorframe, a wicked glint in her eye. “Knew you'd enjoy coming.”

Before he can say something, or more likely throw something at her head, Maria bolts back down the hall, the door swinging shut behind her. Once the door is fully closed, Phil and Bell's attention is brought to a white piece of paper fluttering down from the ceiling.

Bell jumps off her desk and approaches it as it settles gently on the floor, prodding it with her paw before picking it up in her mouth and bringing it to Phil. Her voice muffled from the paper she mumbles, “It's from them.”

Phil tilts his head, taking it from her and reading the folded paper.

_To: Phil & Bella :)_

_We're glad to see you're back in business after Canada. That lesson you did for the junior agents back there was very relieving and pretty funny because that guy deserved it. Hope you two are taking it easy, Clint and Sig._

_P.S. Try getting home before the next morning begins. You can't hide exhaustion forever and bags under the eyes is a pretty big tell._

 

~^~^~

 

Spurred by Clint's suggestion, Phil does leave SHIELD before the next morning starts, but just barely.

They leave SHIELD in the same way as usual, their latest capture not prompting them to find another way to and from work. As soon as Phil takes a step into his apartment, Bell is cautiously inching towards the kitchen, her tail still and ears flat against her head.

Taking his cues from her, Phil draws his handgun and stalks after her. Her tail hovers over the wood, paws falling silently before she relaxes.

She lifts her head. “It's fine. They're not here any longer.”

Phil meets her in the kitchen, scanning the room for anything missing. “Who isn't here anymore?”

Bell rolls her eyes. “Who do you think would voluntarily break into the house of a SHIELD official to tend to their wounds, Phil?”

He opens his mouth to say something before closing it again. “Good point.”

Walking around her to get to the kitchen, Phil merely looks through the fridge and notices what is missing before making his way to their bedroom. Bell watches him as he goes through his nightly routine and jumps up on the bed beside him when he sits down with a sigh.

Worry spinning through his head has Phil standing back up and pacing around the room, Bell watching as he runs a hand through his hair.

“Are you sure they're all right? I mean, they were obviously hurt but there wasn't that much blood, right?”

Bell considers the question as Phil continues to pace. “Well, yes there was a bit of blood but not all of it was theirs. They're fine Phil.”

“Yeah, but they were bleeding! That means they got into some trouble with someone, oh my god what if they got tangled up with a mob.” Phil rubs his wrists in frustration, the possibilities spinning out of control. “What if they got in trouble with a mafia, Bell? Maybe a gang war? Maybe the KGB, or MI5, maybe terrorists?”

Bell leaps down from the bed. “Phil, I just said that they were fine.”

“There's still the possibility that they did get tangled up with, I don't know, a Russian gang war in New York or --”

Rushing towards him, Bell pushes Phil back into the wall, her paws shoving at his hips as she snarls at him, her fur rising in a wave of aggravation. “Phil. They are fine. They're not dead, they will come back when they want to, you can not force this. Let them be. They'll return.”

Phil sighs, sagging against the wall before sliding down to sit on the floor. Bell curls up in his lap and he strokes her fur, staring out the window of their apartment. “How can you be so sure?”

“I'm not. But looking at the facts, they will.” A soft breeze ruffles the curtains near his bed. “They always do.”

~^~^~

When they return from lunch with Maria and Jasper about a week later, Bell jumps onto the desk before freezing, Phil with his gun out before the door even closes to their office.

“No, it's fine Phil. It's from them.” 

Bell circles around the little box carefully, sniffing at the corners and sneezing as Phil approaches the desk, gun back in its holster.

“What, do I need to dust?” Phil reaches for the box, feeling along the sides for tape before ripping it open. 

A folded piece of paper lays on a dense layer of sand, the tape holding it closed peeling and breaking apart easily under Phil's fingers. Bell pokes at the sand then makes her way to perch on Phil's shoulders so she can read the letter with him.

_To: Phil & Bella :)  
We're fine, so there's no reason to get your minds all frazzled. Taking a break from everything for a little bit. Haven't been here for a while and the last time we came we didn't spend much time to appreciate the view so we thought we'd visit a few places again. We're heading off tonight to another place, so don't expect anything for a week or so. Take it easy, Clint and Sig._

Phil can feel the smugness through the bond and shoves Bell off the desk, one side of his mouth curling up as she yowls at him.

She leaps back up beside him, flicking his face with her tail. “Stop being a child and find out what they got us.”

Turning his attention back to the open box on his desk, Phil digs his fingers into the warm sand warily, running his fingers over the top of something metal. His brow furrows and he grabs the top of the shape, pulling out the gift with a shower of sand. Both of them stare at it as Phil turns it around in his hands, Bell letting out a snort of laughter before settling for cackling her amusement away.

Phil lets a chuckle slip through before placing the metal sphinx on his desk with a pencil already in his hand. Bell begins to laugh even harder as Phil sharpens the pencil, the face of the sphinx changing to a comical look of shock as he pushes the pencil in before taking it out as tears of laughter begin to slide down his cheeks. 

Over the next few days, Phil and Bell can't stand to look at a pencil without shaking with badly held laughter. And after Maria and Jasper discover its existence, almost every pencil in the building gets destroyed by a very angry looking Director.

~^~^~

Nothing exciting happens in the following week, just a few missions to oversee and crappy coffee to drink with the pencil sharpener an ever constant source of amusement for Phil and Bell. After a grueling session of dealing with junior agents in one of his missions, Phil leaves his office to get some of the coffee from the break room. People stay out of his way which he dearly appreciates, not wanting to deal with socializing right now, and succeeds in his mission to replenish his caffeine as he makes his way back to his office.

Just as he gets to his door, Bell comes trotting down the corridor, her tail held up and her head high as she meets him at the doorway before preceding him into the room. Bell barely pauses when another piece of paper flutters in the breeze from the vent, only bending her head to sniff at it as Phil closes the door behind him.

“They left another note.” Phil nods, unfolding the paper and smiling at the little cartoon drawing of the junior agents being thrown off a cliff, the only written words being  _'Get home by eleven tonight.'_

“Well we had better get to work, because we're leaving early today.”

Bell groans on the desk where she is lying, “Oh thank god, somebody is beating some sense into you.”

~^~^~

“What time is it?”

“Eleven.”

“Have they left yet?”

“Yes.”

“Thank god.”

~^~^~

Lounging on the couch, Clint pulls his head back up from where it had been dropping to his chest, Sig a warm weight on his chest and legs, fighting past the need for sleep as the clock continues to tick and the worry burrows deeper. Sig falls off of him and onto the floor, moving to curl up on the chair closest to their equipment bags, giving him a pointed look.

As soon as the clock ticks past one and nobody comes through the front door, Clint is up and moving, pulling out his vest and quiver as Sig slips on her head camera without much difficulty and curls up his leg as he picks up his bow.

“They should have been back by now.”

She flicks her tongue. “I know. All their communication lines are scrambled.”

Clint nods his head and climbs out the window, climbing up the side of the building hand over hand on the gutter.

Leaping across roofs until Shield headquarters is in sight is child's play for Clint, and once he sees the building lit up like Christmas, he drops to the streets below.

“Do you want to go now?”

Sig considers the question before nodding. “Yeah, we need a good lookout right now.”

Clint ducks down an alley and kneels beside a drain as Sig wiggles her head between the two bars, careful of the camera on her head. With a quiet splash as she makes her way across the water and a flick of her tail before she vanishes completely, Sig turns towards her well used path into the heart of Shield.

As soon as Clint feels her move into the pipes under the lake he takes out his monitor connected to Sig's helmet and watches with her as she comes to a fork in the ducts, bangs heard clearly overhead.

“Whatever this is, it doesn't look good, Clint.”

“That much is true. Check out the offices first.”

Sig's reply is lost in a roaring of engines, Clint throwing himself behind a dumpster, watching warily as numerous trucks trundle by, the back of one flapping open to reveal armed men, an obvious red symbol glowing dully in the dim streetlight, daemons already snarling in the back. He ducks away, staring at the screen in front of him as Sig finds evidence of Hydra already in the building as she watches agents fighting the masked Hydra agents in a lower level of Shield.

“Offices, Sig.”

“Yeah, yeah, I'm going.”

Soon enough, Sig is checking Phil's office, nothing out of order but the open door. She makes her way up to the Director's office.

“Clint, these guys are all over the place.”

To make her point, she rears up hissing, her fans flaring as a rodent makes its way around a vent corner in front of her. It backs up, startled before hissing back, wary of the snake in front of it. The possum begins to shift but a strangely shaped pattern in the fur has Sig lunging down, sinking her fangs deep into its neck. Squealing, the possum twitches wildly as Sig lets it out of her grasp, nudging it toward the vent wall as she skirts around it. Making her way around the corner Sig ignores the slowing breathing of the possum and turns her attention to Clint.

“It had the hydra symbol shaved into its fur.”

Clint recoils from the screen in shock. “Well we knew that they might be doing that, but knowing they actually do is horrifying.”

Sig hums in response as a flash of gold behind her has shouts echoing through the halls below her. “You might want to start making your way over here, Clint.”

Clint tucks the screen into his vest, slings his bow across his shoulders, and rolls under an oncoming hydra truck, latching himself to the bottom of it as it makes its way merrily to the back entrance of Shield.

~^~^~

Ducking down behind the abandoned reception desk, Phil waits out the burst of gunfire as Bell tenses beside him. A deep throated cackling has the gunmen distracted long enough for Phil to cleanly take a headshot each, gold bursts of light confirming the sharp cracks of the gun.

Making sure the hallway is clear for the moment, Phil stands, and backs his way into Director Fury's office, joining the man himself and Maria as another wave of operatives turn the corner. Finian snarls down at them, his large ears swiveling quickly as bodies fall.

“There's another wave coming.”

Phil dimly registers Fury swearing in the background and the sound of shattering glass. Maria solves the problem in the hall with a well timed gift for the men, slamming the door closed behind her, shouts of alarm reaching them before a loud bang shakes the building. Already turning to the new problem in the room, Phil discards his empty gun into the face of a new opponent, Bell hissing and spitting in a ball of fur and claws with the man's daemon. 

Phil swiftly breaks the man's knee with a sharp kick, and slams his head against Fury's desk. Judging by the indent left on his temple and the flash of gold, he won't be getting up any time soon. Maria deals with her opponent in the same way, both watching as their Director plants a foot in the middle of his enemy's chest and shoves him out the conveniently non existent window, kicking his goat out after him.

They watch as Fury turns to them with a satisfied nod, freezing when a horrid scream is heard in the wind. Eyebrow twitching, he turns back to the window and leans out, watching as they fall, the scream continuing as Nipun soars out the window.

Cackling madly to himself, the bird yells at everyone. “Pull!”

Director Fury pulls out his handgun and shoots, the screaming stopping with a flash of gold in the darkness.

“Director, get him back in here.”

Nipun begins to make his way back toward the window, but a dark shape lands on his back, the two birds screaming at each other as they clash. Maria steps forward and aims, but stops when Fury places a hand on the barrel of her gun.

“If you shoot now, you might hit him.”

Nipun screams as feathers are pulled out of his tail, Fury twitching at the pain and Phil bracing for the inevitable before something flies past them and hits the enemy bird right in the middle of the chest, Nipun pulling himself free and arrowing back into the room as a flash of gold showers the sky.

A thumping cuts through in the air and Phil tackles Fury behind his desk. Maria takes similar cover behind the bookshelf, a helicopter hovering just outside of the windows. With a shout, gunfire sprays across the room, glass shattering and metal flying in a mess of sound. The fire stops for a moment before starting back up again.

The helicopter sways suddenly, a spiderweb of cracks seen on both sides of the cockpit glass, two arrows in the chests of the Hydra operative piloting. It plunges down, scraping along the side of the building.

~^~^~

After the rest of the Hydra group has been contained, Fury puts himself in front of Phil, blocking his way.

“Go home, Cheese.” Nipun flares his feathers on Fury's shoulder, clacking his beak.

Too tired to argue with him right then, Phil just sighs and nods. “You sure?”

“I'm damn sure, now go before I have you locked in your office.”

Walking away, Phil holds his hands up in surrender, Bell walking alongside him down the hall to their office. Fury strokes one finger down Nipun's wing, determined to keep his organization together and moderately healthy despite this new problem.

Soon enough, Phil is unlocking the front door to his apartment, alarm running through his body and adrenaline rushing right after as Bell bolts in the barely open door. Something in his living room hisses, the sound of a smooth body moving across the hardwood having Phil following after Bell almost as quickly.

Phil rounds the corner slowly, expecting the arrow aimed at his chest, but he doesn't expect the condition that the two are in.

Shaky arms release the bow with a grunt, sweat plastered hair glistening in the little light there is in the room. But that's nothing to the sight of Clint's face crunched up in pain, his gasps filling the room as Sig tightens her coils around his upper thigh. Blood coats her body and head, Clint's hands pushing the wound back together, lessening the flow of blood a little bit.

Phil moves to the hallway closet, already pulling on a pair of gloves as he gets back to the two, Bell licking the wound clean with gentle flicks of her tongue. Gasping at the warmth surrounding his chest, Clint doesn't register Phil kneeling beside him until gentle hands probe the wound.

“One of the bullets from the helicopter tore through, clean entrance and exit, no shrapnel or anything.”

Phil nods at the flow of information, not pausing as he lays out a needle and thread, already moving to cut away the material of Clint's pant leg. Both pause as Clint tenses, waiting until he relaxes before Phil rips away the cloth. Clint's boot is already discarded across the room, near the window, the trail of blood leading into the living room before pooling underneath Clint's leg.

“Painkiller?” Phil feels under Clint's thigh to find the exit wound, Sig moving up Clint's thigh for him to get at it.

Clint hisses in pain, clenching his jaw until Phil removes his hand and reaches towards the first aid kit. “No.”

Phil pauses, but doesn't bother arguing with him, and begins to stitch up the front of Clint's thigh, ignoring the way Clint fists his hands with a stiffened jaw. Efficient swiftness sees the bleeding slowing as Phil ties the knot of dark thread and cuts the excess away, leaning back from Clint.

“You're going to have to roll over so I can get the back.” Clint grimaces and starts to move. Sig shifts as he begins to roll over, body shaking with the effort before a warm arm loops under his waist and takes the weight off his arms, gently placing him on his stomach.

Shifting as the hand under him slides out, Clint freezes at a paw on his lower back. “Don't move.”

Biting back a flinch at the palm on the back of his thigh, Clint bites his lip and buries his head in his arms. Sig hisses a warning and the hands quickly continue their work, keeping their touch light and quick.

Clint feels the moment when Phil leans back. “Okay you can turn over now. Just have to bandage it up quick, elevate it, and then put you to bed.”

Gritting his teeth, Clint rolls over in a quick motion, almost landing in Phil's lap. Bell snickers before circling up to his head and licking away the sweat that gathered there. Sig slowly loosens her hold on his thigh as Phil lifts his leg and wraps white gauze around his thigh. Clint stares at Phil as he works, baffled at how he works with such calmness as warmth floods his chest, surrounding his heart and filling the cracks and gaps there.

Phil shuffles over to Clint's shoulder, leaning down and picking up his arm to loop it across his shoulders. Bell moves out of the way as Clint leans up on his other elbow, letting most of his body weight go as Phil pulls him upright. The warmth in his chest doesn't go away as Phil shifts his grip and begins to make his way down the hall, practically carrying Clint to a door.

Clint blinks as Phil's words catch up to him. “Wait, what do you mean, 'put me to bed'?”

Bell opens the door in front of them, leaping onto the bed and pulling back the covers best she can. “Well, seeing as I'm not letting you sleep on my sofa with a bullet wound, you're going to sleep in my bed, whether you like it or not.”

“What, no!” Clint can only hang there as Phil brings him closer to the bed, ignoring his protests as he's lowered to the mattress. “No, I can't take your bed.”

Phil looks at him, unimpressed as he tries to get back up. “Clint, don't argue with me, and take the damn bed.”

Body betraying him where his mind does not, Clint relaxes onto the sheets with a sigh. Sig curls around him, a comforting layer of warmth. Hands gently lift his leg and slide a pillow beneath it before a blanket is pulled over him.

A soft voice murmurs something and Phil chuckles, footsteps leading out of the room, the door left open a crack and sleep dragging Clint down.

~^~^~

At the low sound of humming in his kitchen, the tension in Phil's shoulders immediately relaxes and he drops his keys on the table near the door. Bell practically skips ahead of him into the kitchen laughing in delight as he hears her jump onto the counter.

Turning the corner Phil freezes, his mind going numbingly blank as Clint looks over his shoulder and smiles brightly at him. Sig nudges Clint in the shoulder and he turns back to the stove flipping pancakes happily. 

The sound of Clint speaking has Phil shaking himself out of the vision of Clint cooking in Phil's jeans, slung low on his hips. “Why don't you go and change into something more comfortable, Phil? We can eat after you're done.”

Phil nods and goes to his room, slowly taking off his jacket and tie, and toeing off his shoes before heading back into the kitchen. Clint looks up as he enters and bites back a sigh at the sight of Phil still mostly in his suit, but he still gets two plates down and flips a few pancakes onto each, grabbing the syrup on his way to the table.

Staring down at the plate in front of him, Phil can only think of one thing to say. “Clint, why are we having pancakes for dinner?”

Clint freezes in the act of shoving half a pancake into his mouth at once and stares at him. “Because first of all, pancakes are wonderful at any time. And secondly--”

“--you look like shit.” Sig interrupts.

Clint glares at her but to their surprise Phil chuckles before reaching across the table and drowning his pancakes with syrup, Bell lounging across the back of his chair and shoulders. “Well, he can't deny that.”

Phil nods in agreement. “That's true.”

Clint fiddles with his knife as he chews through his mouthful, glancing at Phil's face, his eyes picking apart every movement Phil makes as if to gauge how well Phil will take his conversation if it's continued. Sighing to himself that he can't somehow make Clint more comfortable in his apartment after two weeks of living together, Phil leans back and meets his gaze evenly.

Bell snorts. “Would you just ask us, Clint?”

Clint startles and looks guiltily down at his plate, Sig coiling around his shoulders restlessly before she murmurs something in his ear. “What happened today?”

Phil leans back, allowing Bell to slide down his chest lazily to his lap. “I think the more accurate question would be to ask what didn't happen today.”

Nodding, Clint mimics his position. “Then what didn't happen?”

Tilting his head back to rest against the back of his chair, Phil thinks about what didn't happen that day, his fingers trailing absently through Bell's fur. “Well.” Phil starts, breaking off with a sigh. 

“I mean if you can't tell me--”

“I had to deal with Stark.”

Clint blinks, staring at him before grimacing. “Oh god, I am so sorry about that.”

Phil laughs. “That sums it up.” 

They eat the rest of dinner in silence, Clint finishing his food quickly and going back for seconds before Phil has even finished his portion. As they put their dishes away, Bell trots into the little office Phil had set up, leaping onto the desk and curling up around the lamp, flicking it on with her paw. Phil sighs and follows her, rolling his sleeves up as he dives straight into his piles of paperwork.

The next few hours pass in a blur of forms and signatures, his focus being broken by a small cramp in the back of his neck. As he rubs it with stiff fingers, the soft sound of footsteps comes from the kitchen. Bell twitches sleepily as a steaming cup is placing quietly on his desk, the warmth of a body at his back almost breaking Phil's resolve to get his work done before the weekend. To his surprise, Clint doesn't leave, merely stands behind him as a comforting presence in his exhaustion.

A shift of fabric is all the warning Phil gets before calloused fingers brush his away and start kneading deftly at the muscles. Bell melts against the desk, Sig wrapping her warm coils around her gently. A small moan breaks past Phil's lips as strong thumbs press down in a heady combination of pleasure and pain, his head falling forward as his body sags.

A low voice breaks the silence. “I'm pretty sure you should have been in bed a while ago, Phil.”

Phil reaches for his pen before a hand stops him on the wrist. “What time is it?”

“Time for you two to go to bed. C'mon.”

Strong hands help him out of the chair, ignoring his protests as he's led to his room, and more importantly, his bed. Gentle hands take his belt off and slide his legs under the covers, his watch removed with the same efficiency, fingertips lingering on his wrist. As everything becomes fuzzy with sleep, warmth floods his body underneath the covers, a feeling of protectiveness enveloping him. 

Clint watches Phil's face smooth out into sleep as he puts Bell down on the bed next to him, Sig hissing gently from his shoulder. The lamplight reflects the dark half moons underneath Phil's eyes, the tension lines disappearing as he breathes evenly. 

Padding quietly from the room, Clint closes the door gently before going to the couch and sitting down, his head resting on his hands.

“Sig?”

“Yes?”

“Are you feeling up to a midnight trip?”

She chuckles.

~^~^~

Nick Fury, Director of Shield, walks down the almost dead halls of his organization, in search of some good, strong coffee. After pilfering some joe from Maria's stash, he makes his way back up to his office, Nipun ruffling his feathers as he passes his receptionist's desk.

Fury swings open his door, freezing with his hand on the doorknob as he sees the figure sitting in his desk chair, booted feet on one corner of his desk. Nipun clacks his beak as the glint of an arrow head flashes between fingers. Fury watches warily as the arrow comes forward in a smooth movement to tap gently against the edge of the desk.

“Is this mahogany? Because I'm not sure how you got this desk through that tiny ass door of yours.”

Fury ignores the question to step further into his office, letting the door close behind him. “What do you want?”

He watches as the head tips to the side, golden hair catching the light, reminiscent of an angels halo. Fury stiffens as he grins a predators grin, all teeth bared viciously. 

“Now isn't that a question.”

~^~^~

**Author's Note:**

> For clarification:
> 
> Clint- Sigrun, King Cobra  
> Phil- Belladonna, Clouded Leopard  
> Maria- Finian, Serval  
> Jasper- Gigi, Rock Pigeon  
> Fury- Nipun, Bearded Vulture


End file.
